


Bionic Me, Bionic You

by brooklynantiques



Series: AU Collection [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bucky's got a neat and expensive prosthetic, M/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Steve is a personal trailer for people who suffer from serious physical injuries, basically that's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynantiques/pseuds/brooklynantiques
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern AU in which Steve is a personal trainer for people who suffer from serious physical injuries, and he's got a favorite client who's got a beautifully designed and awfully expensive prosthetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bionic Me, Bionic You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you guys! With #GiveCaptainAmericaABoyfriend trending on twitter I managed to assemble my final strength to finish this fic, and it's mostly just porn with plot but it was enough to make me feel happy and productive this week. I hope you'll enjoy it!

He didn't really put any thought into it at first. All of his patients normally grew on him, and he usually found something good in all of them, something that he could encourage and pay extra attention to. But this was a bit different.

It wasn’t just his crooked smile or warm laugh, the spark of interest that usually glew in his eyes whenever they conversated, his amazing physique or relaxed appearance. There was something else there, some kind of connection or charm that just… Worked. They worked together. That happens, surely, but this time it really was obvious, like someone had written it on the walls.

 

His name was James Buchanan, but he introduced himself as Bucky. They had only met about five times

 

The meetings were never long. Like any other meeting. A hello, how are you, how have you been since last time, a quick check of the prosthesis and some exercises in the gym - then he was free to go.   
Bucky wasn’t new to the prostetic arm. He’d worked previous ones, but this one was more complex, and his previous PT had not been a specialist, like Steve. Steve knew quite a lot about the science of replacement limbs, and he was absoutely amazed by this one.

STARK INDUSTRIES had funded this new, technical plastic and metal limb, that connects straight to the nerv systems in both arms and legs and works more or less smoothly. A plastic prosthesis can never replace a real limb, but this is about as close as research have come and it is an amazing thing to study. It would be a lie to deny the goosebumps all over his body when he got a chance to look at the mechanics up close.

 

So maybe it wasn’t the charming young man that made him look forward to these meetings a bit extra, and made him smile whenever he thought about them. Maybe it was just his love for his work.

He kept telling himself that.

  


It was a wednesday. His other client and friend, Sam, cancelled his appointment at 12.30 because of some left-over work that had to be done and Steve had only been a tiny bit disappointed to see that the spot had been rebooked when he logged into his computer that morning. His feelings changed to a second of selfish malicious delight when he saw who had claimed the empty space.

 

He helped people. Chatted. Went for lunch with Nat, who worked in the health center connected to their gym.   
Hours flew by. And at 12.30 sharp, a tall man was sitting in the couch in his waiting room, legs crossed and fingers running through the short, brown hair. He must have cut it recently, because last time he sat on that couch, his hair had been long and tied into a bun.   
If Steve hadn’t seen hundreds of nervous people in that waiting room before, he might have felt a little better detecting a sign of isecureness from the man, but he knew it was the atmosphere of the place. Waitingrooms make everyone nervous.

 

“James?”

 

The man looks, and smiles a crooked smile. His jeans are light blue, his boots brown. His black t-shirt is curled up over the left arm, exposing the prosthesis - that almost glows in the light from the window. Its plastic parts are both black and white, but you can see the mechanical work inside from different angles where the plastic doesn't cover it up. Its details are extraordinary. The mechanical work a sight for sore eyes.   
He tries not to doze off, looking at it. 

 

“Please, Doc’. It’s Bucky.” A wry smile. 

 

“Alright, welcome Bucky.” Steve smiles back and walks up to the man, who stands up, ready to head over to the gym. “Shall we?”

He points across the room, at the glass door leading to what he know is the smaller gym.

 

When he holds the door open and Bucky passes him, he dares to say, “And by the way, it’s not Doc either. I don’t think I’m eligible to that title. Just call me Steve.”

Bucky laughs a short laugh. "Steve. Okay." 

 

It's quite chilly inside the gym. Mirrored walls reflect emptiness, a few bars to hold when you practice walking after leg or foot injuries, a few weights, two treadmills and a couple of shelves with various equipment to use. Overall, it's both empty and quiet. Looks sterile, and boring. But it's a gym, after all.   
A few bunks looking like hospital beds are placed along the back wall. Bucky sit down on one of them and Steve locates a taller stool and places it by the bunk, reaching for the notebook and pen in his back pocket and finally sits down.

 

“So, Bucky,” he starts, “How are things? Tell me all about it.” He tries to sound trustworthy and relaxed, almost nonchalant to make his opponent feel secure, as he scribbles down the date, name of client and a few reference words.

 

“Ah, things are good I guess.” Bucky sucks in the corner of his lower lip while thinking over something. Steve glances at him. “I think my arm is good and my mind is good and I eat healthy, I work out like you showed me and I drink a lot of water. I should be perfect, right?”

 

Steve can’t help but comment, “You don’t feel perfect?”

 

“Nah… Or, I don’t know. I’m good."

 

Silence.

 

"Tell me about your arm."

 

"Well... I don't know. There's something about it. It's Perfect. Too perfect. I don’t feel comfortable with it’s perfectness, and to be honest, it's creeping me out, ‘Doc.”

 

“Steve," he corrects, and looks at Bucky with furrowed brows. "Have you talked to Bruce about it?”

 

“Nah, didn’t feel like it was worth talking about. I mean, I’ve had other arms. I get used to them. They’re a part of me, I’ll just learn to like it.”

 

Steve nods. Bucky's face is stuck in a frown, he holds one hand on his prosthesis, stroking its surface gently with his index finger. Overall, he actually looks relaxed. 

 

“Well, I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’d recommend you still go talk to Bruce this week, or next if that suits you better. This is a delicate process. No matter how many times you go through it, you still deserve the support and help that comes with it. It’s hard. No one will ever get one hundred percent used to it, and just run with it, so whenever you feel like you might need a little help - you know where you’re supposed to go. I’m right here, and Bruce is too. Okay?”

 

Something flashes by in the other man’s eyes. He looks up, and smiles. Genuinely. Gladly. 

“I know. I mean, I’m here now, right?”

 

Steve chuckles. A quick pause. “Yes, you are.” He scribbles down three words to remember their conversation, so that he can have a word with Bruce later, and then looks up to study the young man's face again. His casual posture on the bunk, his gaze out the window.

His jawline. It's as sharp as the corner of a paper.

He's unbelievably good looking. It shouldn't affect Steve, but it does. He swallows, blinks, and pushes his thoughts away. 

 

“So… You’ve told me some about your attitude towards your arm. What about your physical abilities? Did anything change since last time? I know you’ve been struggling some with the weight of the metal parts, the inside.”

 

“Oh, yeah, I’ve gotten better at it but it really is more heavy than my previous ones. It’s not that I can’t carry it, but I feel a bit crooked.”

 

“Can I have a look?”

 

The man shrugs and turns to sit in profile. Steve scribbles down one final word before putting the notebook aside and walks up to the bunk.

 

“Should I?” Bucky gestures towards the shirt.

 

“Oh… Oh, yes, yes right…” Steve prays to every possibly existing god that he doesn't look awkward, embarrassed or as abnormal as he feels when the man quickly removes his shirt over his head and rolls it into a tiny ball with his bionic limb. His finger work is amazing to watch, the plastic and metal is both fast and flexible. Luckily, Bucky's got his back turned against him. He can't see him staring. 

The prosthetic arm is fastened from the left scapula on the back and crawls up along the neck to almost cross the left collar bone before going down in the armpit and connecting back to the scapula again. The scars that decorates the edge around the attachment is almost pearl white against the slightly tanned skin on the rest of the back. Some shades of pink tells Steve that the scars are still healing, but really slowly. 

The left shoulder is hanging a bit further down than the right one. It forms an almost perfect line over the right shoulder to the neck, but the other one tilts down and hangs like a burden, a bag or a weight. 

 

Steve carefully places each of his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. He can feel the stiffness in the man’s back all the way up, how he tightens up by the touch, so he lets his own left hand stroke down the prosthesis and to the middle of the man's back, over to his right shoulder. He crosses a few bumps he believes are muscle knots.

 

“You’re right. It’s heavy. Your back’s not used to it. We have to pick a few more exercises for you, I’m afraid, and you’ll have to do them more often.”

 

Bucky nods.

Steve removes his hands from the man’s back and gently places them on the bionic arm instead, stroking down it with his palms on each side. He places one hand under the elbow and makes the arm turn ninety degrees. The other one supports the inner side as he raises it until the back is a straight line.  
The bionic limb really is heavy. He can feel that. The plastic is soft, and cold against his fingertips. 

 

“How does that feel?” He asks, calmly.

 

“Strange.”

 

“I’m holding your arm so that your shoulders can rest in a straight line. This is how it’s supposed to be.” He's talking slowly, informatively, like he's supposed to. And to distance himself from the feeling of Bucky's skin against his. 

 

“I guess I’m more crooked than I thought in the first place…” Bucky mutters.

 

Steve laughs. “Don’t worry, Quasimodo, we’ll get your back straight in no time. Have you ever been to a masseur, or massage therapist?”

 

The man hesitates. “Uhm… No… I, uhm, you know I don’t really like showing this thing off…” He waves with his left arm.

 

Steve doesn't really know how to answer that, but he lets go of the prosthesis and replace his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. Slowly, and carefully he starts to massage the right shoulder some, finds a muscular knot and begins to work it with his fingers. Bucky is tense at the beginning, but starts to relax only after a few seconds.

They sit in silence. It's a good silence, a mindful one.   
Until Steve opens his mouth again. He can't resist to say it, he almost feels like he has to. 

 

“I’m not sure I have the right to say this, but you do know that your arm is amazing, right?”

 

Bucky sighs. It is hard to tell if it is because of the treatment he is given, or because of what Steve said.   
“I know. I know…”

 

“It's beautiful. I mean, only a few people can afford such a nice piece. That's a shame, really. But I know that Stark Industries works hard for it.”

 

“Yeah, he does. I mean, they do..." Bucky clears his throat, and straightens his back some, "I mean, he’s my friend so that’s probably why I could afford it. Howard pretty much gave it to me.”

 

Steve stops massaging for a second. “You know Howard Stark?”

 

The brunet looks over his shoulder. Steve quickly starts over again. He gradually uses more force to work the muscle, and Bucky continues to talk. 

 

“Yeah, our old mans were army buddies so we’ve known each other since childhood. ‘Bit ironic, isn’t it?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Uhm. Just. Him ending up a billioneer, successfull and loveable, with a wife and kids and all. Helping people. Designing all kinds of things, but especially bionic arms and legs and stuff. And here I am - Not really successful. Lost my arm in a car crash. It’s like life was meant for us, if you believe in that kind of bullshit.”

 

Steve can’t help but smile, even though Bucky sounds a bit bittersweet in his storytelling. He's got a point.

  


They sit in silence for some time. Steve works, carefully but more intensely than before. Bucky seems to like it. At some points he even make a quiet sound, that he probably doesn't know that he's making, but Steve hears it, and he likes it. A lot. 

 

“You know, by now I’m only supposed to try out and give you a few exercises and then you’re free to go, but I’m positive that you should have some kind of treatment for your back so I’m going to give you two options. Either I make a few phonecalls and you head straight to a professional masseur, or you stay here for half an hour and I’ll do my best with what I know.”

 

“Isn’t this professional treatment?”

 

“It’s not my professionality, no.”

 

“Well I think you’re quite good at it.”

 

Steve chuckles, “Thank you.”

 

“No problem, ‘Doc.”

 

He doesn't even try to correct the man this time.

 

“Should I lie down?”

 

Steve swallows. Tries to sound nonchalant. “If you want to. It would be easier. You're staying?”

 

Bucky shrugs. “Why not. Fire away.”  
He drops the shirt-ball to the floor and lay down on the bunk as Steve stands up and pulls the bed from the wall, so that he can walk around it. He stands aside and waits for Bucky to get comfortable on his stomach. The tanned back glows in the light of the fluorescent tubes in the roof. 

He normally sees a lot of half-nude bodies and he's actually good at separating work from private life and private feelings. It works. It has worked for his whole career. 

But Bucky’s back is in perfect shape. He can not only feel the muscles, but see them through the skin, and he is simply so fascinated by the prosthesis that he forgets about his situation for a few seconds, before snapping back into reality.   
He's a bit ashamed. Forces his mind back to purely objective thoughts.

 

He's surprised when Bucky starts small talking. 

“So, what do you do ‘Doc? When you don’t give free massages or compliment your patients.”

 

Steve starts working down Bucky’s back, finding spots to tense up below the attachment of the prosthesis. He thinks about his answer. 

 

“Well, I uhm, don’t really do that much,” he admits, “I basically work all day, sleep all that, and do that on repeat.”

 

Bucky changes his position on the bunk. “That sounds fairly boring.”

 

“Not when you love your work.” Steve smiles.

 

“Nah, maybe not, but I mean… To do the same thing. Over and over again. Don’t think I’d survive, so I’m impressed, I gotta say.”

 

“What do you do, then?”

 

Bucky is silent for a few seconds, and Steve almost suspects that he’s asked something that Bucky doesn’t want to answer, but then the man says, “I used to be a cop, but, this complicated things. I work special forces now. Mostly office work, never the kind of situations I used to love. No fire. No thrill. Doubled reports and paper work and that kind of stuff,” he laughs, “God, I hate it.”

 

“Sounds more excitig than this, if I have to be honest.”

 

They both laugh quietly. “Yeah,” Bucky continues, “Sometimes I miss the thrill. I mean, to be out there, not knowing what’s about to happen. You suspect, but you can’t be sure. Your mind is spot on concentrated because you can’t afford to make a mistake…”

 

Steve works his way down Bucky’s back, thumbs massaging each side of his spine. He rolls his hands, works hard. Another sound escapes Bucky's mouth, this time quite alike a moan - and it's very attractive.   
Hot.   
Shit... 

 

“Man, you really are good at this…” Bucky hums, and a sound of enjoyment follows. Steve feels a warmth spread in his chest. Slowly. But it surely is there.

He keeps going. Rolling his knuckles, up over the shoulders, on the areas where he can work, especially over the neck and down the spine, under the prosthesis and on the right shoulder. Bucky hums once more.

 

“Can I hire you once a week?”

 

Steve chuckles, “I’m not professional, you should find someone close by.”

 

“Yeah but what if they suck, and you’re better?” Bucky answers with a sly undertone. Steve strokes his hands down his neck. Caresses his skin. It's warm, soft. 

 

“Hmm, well, then maybe you could come here and I’d charge you twice as much as a professional would?”

 

Bucky laughs to that, “Oh, you’ll ruin me... Ah, I’ll make my old office pay. I can call a bartender and some friends over, and they’ll never suspect anything.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

His skin is warm and slightly red. It beams in the sun from the window. Steve's harsh fists stops working, and he start stroking the shoulders carefully instead. He leans forward a bit to have a closer look at the scars. They're bleak, wide, and reflect pain like nothing else. Marks for life.  
Without putting any thought into it, one of his hands start touching the uneven, bright skin. He suddenly stops when he realizes what he is doing. Bucky lets out a quick breath.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-- I should have asked…”

 

But Bucky is quick, and he sits up, turns to him and interrupts his apologiez, “It’s alright - it’s cool, I’m a bit sensitive, that’s all. Forget it.”   
They're suddenly really  close, face to face. Steve takes a step back, feeling like he's intruding on the other man’s personal space, but he accidentally steps into the stool that he’d been sitting on before, and almost makes it fall into the floor. He manages to catch it in the last second, and then turnes back to Bucky who looks like he's trying  to hide a laugh.   
Steve have never felt so awkward before. He's ashamed. Clumsy. 

 

A bionic arm reaches out to hold on to his, so that he won't fall again. Steve's own arm holds a tight grip around the frame of the bunk.  
They're really close again. Bucky's sitting down, holding onto Steve’s arm.  Their eyes meet. Bucky’s are bright, blue green, more bright than colorful. They look at him with an intense curiosity, but there's something more behind it... Eagerness. Jealousy? No, not that. Something. They look at each other.

Seconds feels like ages.

 

Steve finally lets go of the bunk with his hand, and tries to back out of Bucky’s personal zone. But the bionic arm refuses to let go.   
They look at each other again.

 

And then Bucky kisses him.

 

It's almost like he doesn't notice at first, he blinks and feels a hot breath against his mouth, then a soft, damp touch over his lips. It lasts for two seconds. A thousand thoughts rushes through his head during that time and then it's over, Bucky pulls back and seems about as confused as Steve feels.   
A second of blankness, and then the look in his opponent's eyes turn determined.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “Look, I don’t know what happened--”

 

“No, me neither,” Steve is quick to counter, “I- uhm, I didn’t mean to…”

 

He knows that he didn’t mean to. It had been Bucky who’d pulled him in and kissed him, but if someone else had walked into the room at that time, Steve had been the one to suffer for it.   
Although he isn't quite sure if that matters at the moment.   
Not really. Not at all. 

 

He looks up at Bucky again. Now, the man tilts his head a bit to the left and he sucks in the corner of his lip, looking like he's reading Steve’s facial expression, trying to see his feelings. Watching him, closely.

 

“I--” the man starts, but then stops. Sighed. Takes a deep breath. Looks Steve right in the eyes, and says, “I’m sorry. Except I’m not, not really. I guess I might have read you wrongly, but I don’t think so.”

 

Those hands pulls him in once again, and even though he's still got a few seconds to think and act, Steve does nothing. He doesn't want to. Some tiny little part of him tries to tell himself that he absolutely shouldn’t, but there is absolutely no chance that he'll back off now.  
He's in too deep. 

 

Bucky kisses him again. He kisses back. He feels two legs attach to his hips, and the bionic hand letting go of his arm, crawling up his chest instead. He can't pull back.   
They kiss with open mouths, soft lips, hands crawling and reaching for each others bodies.

 

He doesn't know what to think. Or feel. Other than that same warmth from before returning, spreading from his stomach and out in the rest of his body. His fingers are tickling, like he wants to touch every single part of the other man’s body, like he is seventeen years old again.   
Well, he admits for himself, it's been some time since the last one. 

 

Bucky's releasing those small, soft sounds again, moans that isn't really moans but they sure affected Steve like they are. He kisses Steve’s neck, down his chest until he meets the fabric of his t-shirt, then returns upwards to follow the jaw line and over to his mouth. It is like a weird wet dream, too unreal to be true. But it is happening. Right there. Right then. It's not something inside Steve's mind, it's real, and it's incredibly arousing. 

 

Steve is not really sure what to do when Bucky tries to drag him up on the bunk with him. The bed isn't built for two, especially not two men about the same big size, but the dark haired man doesn’t give in just because of a second of hesitation.

 

“Wait, wait--” Steve manages to cough up between their kisses, “This isn’t gonna work--”

 

“Trust me.” Bucky answers, silently, calmly, like he hasn’t done anything else in his entire life. It is almost as laughable as it is hot.   
The bed protests but doesn’t break under their weight, and Steve is basically lying on top of Bucky with his hands on each side of his head, staring into a pair of almost sadistically happy eyes, and a wry smile.

 

“Told you, ‘Doc.”

 

“God, stop calling me that--”

 

He's silenced by another soft kiss, and two hands running down his back, going in under his t-shirt to touch his hot skin.

It feels great. It feels like he’s never done anything else. More correctly, feels like he wants to keep going and never stop and that feeling is one of the most dangerous yet thrilling ones he’s ever thought. This meeting might end in a heartbreak. But in this moment, Steve can't really focus on anything but what's happening right in front of him. And who's in his arms.

 

Bucky has started to undress both Steve and himself, at the same time, and it is both entertaining and exciting to watch. A t-shirt is rolled halfway up the blond man’s chest, and the man underneath him unbuckles his belt, trying to curl out of his jeans, but it is a hard task to complete when lying on a bunk with a heavy mass of personal trainer on top of himself. Steve tries to make it easier for him, but he can barely do anything himself. For a moment, just a second, he thinks logically again, and stops everything that he’s doing just to have a quick breath and look at the face of the person lying underneath him.

 

“Hey, hey--” he stops Bucky’s tangling arms, meets his bright eyes. “We should get out of here.”

 

“Where?” the brunet smiles. A strand of hair’s covering his damp forehead, and his eyes are full of life, the _something_ that Steve’s detected during all of these meetings but never fully seen. Not until now.

 

“I’ve got an office, too. Just next door.”

 

They climb down from the bunk, a bit awkwardy. Bucky laughs quitely while he’s putting his pants back on, and Steve curls down his shirt as they walk quickly towards the gym door. There’s no one outside, thank god, and the only thing Steve can think of is that he hopes no one’s overheard them.   
He heads over to the door that lead to his office, and enter as fast as he can. As soon as Bucky’s inside he locks the door and breathes for what feels like is the first time in five minutes. He turns towards Bucky, who’s still shirtless, playing with the fabric ball with his prosthetic. He locks his gaze on Steve, and starts walking up to him.

 

“For a second, I almost thought that you were going to leave me hanging.”

 

They study each other. Each other’s bodies. Steve smiles and reaches out for Bucky’s hand.

“Did you really?”

 

He pulls him closer and they kiss again, more elegantly than before, until Bucky’s pushed Steve up against the wall with his hands under his shirt again, and Steve has to laugh in the middle of their kiss because of how genuinely happy he feels, because of the blood rush and because of the adrenaline. The cold feeling of soft, plastic fingers run over his torso, slide over his nipple, and he shivers.

 

“What?” Bucky murmurs, with a smile decorating his lips.

 

“It’s nothing…” Steve counters, wraps his arms around his partner and forces him around, so that Bucky’s back is against the wall this time. “Just, this is so great.”

 

“It is,” a hoarse voice whispers, before breathing hot air into his ear, sending a shiver all over his body. He can feel the goosebumps spreading across his arms and legs as Bucky’s wet mouth nibble at his earlobe and lick down over his neck.

 

By now, his mind only gets fuzzier and fuzzier. The blood in his body is clearly rushing down to more important places. His pants feel five sizes too small, and he has to get rid of them or he feel like he’d actually hurt himself.   
Like the man underneath him had heard his thoughts, his breath disappears as his body goes down along the wall and his mouth keep kissing every part of Steve’s upper body that he can reach. He quickly removes his shirt so that Bucky can feel every part of him.

 

When the man’s reached the lining on Steve’s pants, and starts fumbling with the first button, Steve finds it hard to breathe. He wants air, but he wants this feeling even more. Once he can feel his jeans open up and curl down his thighs he lets out a sigh almost without noticing, and Bucky laughs against the fabric of his boxers. His breath puffs through the thin layer of clothing. It tickles. It feels great.   


 

“Oh, Fuck-”

 

“Language, ‘Doc,” Bucky chuckles, and Steve can almost feel his blood rush down to his already far too erect cock. “I won’t tease you, I promise.”

 

And in a few seconds, Bucky’s managed to pull down his boxers and place one hand around Steve’s erection. He has to stop everything in his head and think about nothing at all to not moan out loud, but something still escapes from his mouth when Bucky’s tongue is ghosting over his shaft and then kisses the skin over his hip bones, down over his pelvis, to reach his goal.

Steve falls forward but is saved by the wall in front of him, where he can put up his hands to lean on.

Another moan, louder this time, slips out when Bucky’s lips kiss the tip of his cock, and then take it in his mouth, gently, slowly, more at the time.

 

Steve feels like he might implode. Bucky's sucking his cock. At his office.   
Giving an extra thought to it, he decides he’s never experienced something as erotic as this. 

 

His hands are sweaty and his body is shivering by the touch of the man, standing on his knees, taking his cock in his mouth. A tingling feeling that starts in his stomach echoes through his body, and he’s got no control over his nerves. It’s great. This feeling, he’s missed it a lot.

 

“Oh, my-- Yes, it’s so good, it’s so good-”

 

Bucky seems like he’s affected by the words, and he grabs Steve’s hips as he’s bobbing his head backwards and forwards even quicker than before, causing an internal chaos in Steve’s head. A stroke of warmth plants in Steve’s crotch and he fears he might loose it, and come right there at that moment, so he desperately tries to pull away but Bucky holds him tightly right where he wants him. When Steve finally manages to give him a sign to let go, Bucky pulls his head back and looks up with pleased eyes. His lips are red and sore, and he’s wet all around his mouth. It’s incredibly, incredibly hot.   
Steve's almost blushing.   
  
Bucky stands up. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans in to place a kiss on Steve’s lips, sucking the lower one in, biting it and then letting it go. "Did you like it?"

"Oh god- Yes..."

 

“I want you,” he whispers, “I want you more than anything.”

 

Steve’s already lost. “Where?”

 

“Anywhere. Your chair? The desk?”

 

Bucky grabs his arm and drags him to the furniture, Steve’s already unbuckled his partner’s belt, and pulls his jeans and boxers down as soon as they’re by the writing desk. Luckily, he cleaned it the same morning so nothing but his computer is in their way. Bucky leans back, and Steve places his hands on his chest before they pull each other close again and kiss until their lips are bright red and glossy by saliva. One of the blond’s hands have reached the other man’s crotch, and he’s carefully placing his hand around his cock, moving it with a soft but determined pulse. Bucky’s moaning, making sounds that encourage Steve’s hand to move faster, more intensely.

 

“Turn around”, he whispers into the other man’s ear. He obeys. Steve has to push his body tight to Bucky’s back to be able to reach his cock and keep working it, but he likes it. Bucky clearly does too, given his quickened breath and approving hums.   
Steve works his cock with his left hand, but lets his right one stroke its way down Bucky’s side, playing a little, drawing circles, finding its way down and in between them, stroking his lower back and bottom. He touches his skin like it was the most delicate thing he’s ever held. He leans forward to kiss Bucky’s shoulder, and kiss down along the edge of his prosthetic arm. Bucky murmurs something that he doesn’t really grasp, but he manages to hear that it’s positive, encouraging, so he keeps going.   
His hand moves further down.

 

“I want you,” Bucky whispers, and Steve can feel his blood rush again.

 

“I want you too,” he answers, “God, you don’t know how much I want you-- to be inside of you, now-”

 

Bucky groans. Silently, almost inaudibly, he whispers, "Please. Fuck me." 

 

Steve's about to lose his mind. He moves his right hand further down, tries to find its way, and Steve kisses Bucky’s neck a few more time before he’s located his entrance with his finger and starts to massage it gently, slowly but gradually pushing his finger in, bit by bit. Bucky takes a deep breath and it sounds like he’s desperately trying to not cry out and expose them.

Steve pushes another finger in, and takes it more gently than he wishes that he could. But he wants this to be as good for Bucky as it hopefully will be for him. He wants it to be better. He wants it to be the best that there is.

After seconds of massaging, circling, he pulls out his fingers. Bucky sighs, and sounds a bit disappointed.

Steve leans forward. “We need lube…”

The other man turns around. “Shit. I haven’t got any…”

 

Steve backs of, and walks around the desk to his backpack that’s lying by the chair. His hands are shaking. He dips one hand into it and starts digging, finds his extra bag with medicine and digs it through. Successfully, he pulls out a small bottle. 

 

He walks back to a pleased Bucky, who sits up at the desk to face Steve, and wraps his legs around his hips once they’re close again. Helping each other out, they both cover their hands in lube, and as Bucky work Steve’s cock, Steve starts fingering Bucky again. They make progress.

  
“Come on, ‘Doc,” he says with a huskier voice than before, almost like he’s challenging his opponent. Steve can’t refuse.   
He struggles with getting inside of his partner, it takes longer than expected, their angle is almost impossible, but once they’re united he can take it slow, stop and have a deep breath. He holds his partner tightly, wraps his arms around him as to protect him. Bucky leans his head back and groans behind gritted teeth. 

 

“How do you feel?”

 

He leans his head forwards again. Bucky’s eyes are glossy but he smiles, needily. “‘M fine, I’m fine, keep going-- please, keep going…”

 

He does. It is a challange for him, but once they’ve found a pace he feels like he’s in heaven on earth. They breaths sync and their bodies move together, both clinging to the amazing feeling they’re sharing, pushing, sweating together. Steve’s moving faster. They hold on to each other.

The air in the room is thick, and it’s almost hard to breathe, but they don’t really think a lot about oxygen while moving together, skin against skin.   
Within minutes, Steve’s dangerously close to the edge, and in no real control of the sounds he’s making. He lets go of Bucky’s back to find his cock with his hand, and strokes it, perhaps a bit rougher than he’d thought, but he blames the mood, the feeling that shiver his bones. Bucky clearly doesn’t mind, he groans and lets out a song of swearwords before looking up to meet Steve’s eyes with a sharp intensity in his eyes.

 

“Fuck-- Keep going, please, harder, harder…”

 

Steve’s mind almost goes blank. He leans forwards and dares to quicken their pace some more. “Fuck…” He murmurs, and Bucky’s body shiver in his arms.

They kiss. Sloppily, with a hunger, keep their lips pressed together even though they’re not as focused on their kisses as their moving hips. Steve’s pushing, going rougher than before, almost pining Bucky down to the bench as his partner breathes hot air into his ear, whispers sweet nothings. He asks for more.   
Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s so close on coming he nearly forgets about anything else, and thankfully, Bucky is starting to get close too, his grip around Steve’s neck is harder, and he’s moving more desperately.

 

“I’m so close, fuck-” Steve breathes in hard.

 

“Me too, keep going, ‘Doc, keep going… Yes... “

 

A few quick, harsh thrusts, desperate strokes around Bucky’s cock and Steve can hear him gasp for breath, throw his head back and whisper, “I’m coming… I’m coming…”

 

Only then, Steve alows himself to let go. His hips keep going on repeat, but when he feels the warmth spread in his stomach he pulls out as quickly as he can, and comes, together with Bucky, holding him tightly in his arms. Every muscle in his body is flexing, and the orgasm rushes through his body like a wave, hitting him, throwing him off guard and leaving a tickling feeling behind, that prickles his skin. He breathes fast, feels the warmth of come on his stomach, and he’s not really sure if it’s his or Bucky’s, because Bucky looks as done as he feels.   
The brunet’s hair is messy, his forehead damp and his stomach is shiny and sticky.  
They look at each other.   
Judging from how he's feeling, Steve's sure that both him and Bucky probably look equally miserable, drenched in sweat and come, still shivering while waiting for the orgasm to truly ebb out.   
They hold on to each other.

Bucky smiles. A genuine, happy smile. It’s spreading. Steve can’t help but chuckle, and it turns into a shared giggle before Bucky decides to let go of Steve’s waist with his legs, and jump down from the desk to grab his pants. He’s still smiling when he’s putting them on again. Steve quickly fixes his own ones too, and feels how sore the rest of his body is. His legs ache.  
His hands are still shaking. He's got red marks from the bench on both hands and legs. 

 

“Here,” Steve turns around picks up his t-shirt from the floor, “Wipe yourself clean with this. I’ve got an extra in my bag.”

 

The throws it, and Bucky catches it with an impressively graceful swing from his bionic arm. “Thanks.” He wipes his chest and stomach with it as Steve grabs his bag and finds his extra shirt.   
Once they’re both wiped clean, at least almost clean, and look as close to decent as possible, they stop to stand looking at each other one more time. There are no hidden feelings between them anymore. They're empty now, regaining their breaths and relaxing their muscles.   
Steve sighs. After a few seconds of dwelling, he decides to ask.

 

“Are you coming back?”

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair. A few strands refuse to follow his lead and fall back over his forehead again.   
He's still incredibly good looking. Like a movie star. Like a model. 

“I’d like to. You’re my PT, after all. Do you want me to?”

 

Steve’s almost too quick with his answer, “Yes.”

 

Bucky smiles again. “Or, maybe…” That little something’s appeared in his eyes again. He takes one step closer to Steve, and then one more, slowly, like he’s playing a game. “... I’ll do more than come back…”

 

“Oh?” Steve quirks an eyebrow and looks at the man, amused, as he gains on him. Once they’re face-to-face, Bucky nods. “Hm. I can come back here, alright. But I mean… I can come to your place, too. And you to mine. We can get to know each other... Better. If you wanna.”

 

“I’m not sure my boss would like the fact that I’m seeing a client…”

 

“You’re just doing your job.”

 

“I’m not--”

 

“No, okay, but what was this then?”

 

They're both smiling.

It’s a game. He knows it. Bucky knows it. And he loves it.

 

“This? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Bucky reaches out with his arm, grabs Steve’s neck and pulls him in. They kiss, once again very softly, but the fierceness is there, they both can feel it.

Steve’s the one to break it, leaving their foreheads against each other, and his arms around Bucky’s waist.

 

“Alright.” He whispers. Bucky smiles. "This is a formal invite. Dinner at my place, this week?"

 

“I can’t wait.”


End file.
